


i don’t have dreams, i just have nightmares

by spacebounds



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-18 01:41:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7294408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacebounds/pseuds/spacebounds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s Luke’s turn to be the sober bro for the night and Michael’s drunk teasing quickly turns dark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i don’t have dreams, i just have nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> still in the process of moving all my writing from tumblr (thinqng) to here. based on something that happened to me a while back.
> 
> *** Trigger Warning: mentions of death, drugs/alcohol

Luke isn’t sure why he lets these things happen to him.

Like. Okay. He understands that someone has to be the sober friend sometimes to watch over the rest of them and that sometimes it has to be him, but he still doesn’t particularly like it. He doesn’t like the way the air tastes when it’s heavy with the scent of beer or the way the rest of the band has those stupid smiles pinned to their faces as their level of sobriety decreases. Luke really, really, really hates being the sober friend.

Right now, they’re at Luke’s lying in his living room and unwinding. It’s one of those nights where it’s dark out and the clouds are dingy and lightning is crackling in unsettling ways but everyone’s too faded to really notice. Everyone except for Luke who has to make sure they don’t get up to too much mischief. Michael’s the only one who’s really moving around at this point. Calum’s sitting on the carpet beside Luke, red faced, quiet and smiling the way he always is when alcohol is in his system and Ashton’s lying on the couch, trying (and failing) at putting another beer bottle to his lips. This is manageable, Luke thinks. If they stay like this he can handle it.

Except for Michael. He’s one of those active drunks; he’s moving around and touching things and talking too loudly and holy fuck, why won’t he sit down and stop touching things? but this isn’t a surprise at all. Luke knows that Michael will give him problems. Michael always gives him problems when he’s drunk. Michael’s never really known when to shut up and when he’s drunk it only gets worse, and, just like clockwork, Michael’s up on his feet, teetering and squealing around the living room like a toddler while Luke keeps an eye on him.

“Sit down Michael,” Luke says in a tone so authoritative he thinks he might actually sound threatening. Michael doesn’t like that though, especially not when he’s drunk. He likes being annoying and childish, and being told to sit down ignites something within him to be even more annoying than he had been before. Lightning flashes. The living room is illuminated for a moment. Thunder crackles. Michael smirks. Luke groans. 

“Do you think you’re my dad?” Michael asks, swaying his head from side to side. “You’re the baby of the group Luke, I don’t take orders from you.” Calum snickers from beside the blond boy and Luke frowns. He doesn’t need Michael’s fucking sass right now.

“Shut up,” Luke retorts, but Michael’s already collapsing on the floor and crawling drunkenly over to Luke to poke him incessantly.

“Hey Luke… Luke…. Lucas,” Michael slurs, jabbing his finger into Luke’s ribs every time he says the boy’s name. “Look at me Luke. Look at me.”

“Shut up, will you?” Ashton asks as his clumsy fingers manage to get a grip on the bottle of beer that’s been eluding his lips for far too long. “You never stop talking when you’re drunk. Be more like Calum for once.” Calum hums in response before slowly falling to his side in the recovery position on the carpeted floor. That was one of the few bits of information Calum had retained from school. If you drink too much, lie down on your side and try your best to breathe. Calum closes his eyes and breathes laboriously, his body almost shaking from the action.

“You alright mate?” Luke asks and Calum forces a quick thumbs up as he keeps breathing loudly.

“Just need to lie down,” Calum says, his brown eyes fluttering shut. “Think I mixed my drinks a bit too much.”

“Let us know if you’re feeling too sick, alright?” Ashton says and yet again, Calum’s response is a tiny, unintelligent utterance. Luke kind of appreciates it, the way Calum refuses to be a burden and Ashton tries to look out for him and maybe, maybe it’s not that bad and he can handle being the sober friend for once but then-

“Lukeeeeee… Pay attention to me, you never pay attention to me…” Michael whines and Luke immediately sighs because he knows that it’s going to be something obnoxious or stupid, because when Michael’s drunk all he does is say things that are obnoxious and stupid and Luke knows this; he knows when he gives Michael attention it’ll be something stupid and unnecessary but he does it anyway.

Luke isn’t really sure why he does any of the things he does to be honest.

And, just Luke’s luck, this is the one time Michael decides not to say something stupid, but instead, says something completely different.

Luke isn’t sure he likes this any better.

“If you couldn’t save one person in this room, who would it be?” Michael asks.

“What?” Luke stutters. In that ominous way that weather always seems to work, lightning flashes again just to darken the mood, but this time Michael’s not smirking.

“Want me to repeat it?” Michael asks curiously. Somehow he managed to drape himself over Luke and Luke doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like the proximity or the questions or the serious tone that’s just settled over everything and he just wants to not be here. Or not be sober. Whichever is easier.

“But… Like… if I couldn’t save one person from what?” Luke finally spits out.

“From dying,” Michael continues. His eyes are dark, he’s drunk, but his words are so clear and coherent. He knows what he’s saying. He knows what he’s doing. Or at least that’s what Luke hopes; he hopes Michael doesn’t have a dark subconscious but now he’s not sure of anything and he doesn’t think he can deal with this. Not right now at least. He doesn’t think he ever could.

“What the fuck kind of question is that?” Luke asks when he finally regains the words. His eyes flicker from pink cheeked Calum lying on the floor, eyes squinting and fingers drumming on his stomach, to floppy haired Ashton sprawled out on the couch, dimples and all. And then Michael. Poor drunken Michael’s with eyes like stars, waiting for an answer he shouldn’t want to a question he should have never asked. 

“You heard me,” Michael says. “Who wouldn’t you save?" Luke could never do it, he thinks. He could never imagine watching one of those beautiful boys die, not even in a hypothetical situation, not even for the sake of answering a stupid drunken question. He can’t imagine living without Calum’s breathy laughs and Ashton’s giggles, he can’t imagine living without Michael’s neon hair or glimmering piercings; he can’t fathom a world where he won’t be towering over Ashton’s head or carrying Calum around in his arms are getting teased by Michael. He can’t do it. He can’t.

"This is a bullshit question,” Luke says. “Be quiet.”

“Fine then. You can only save one person,” Michael compromises. “So we know who you love the most instead of who you hate.”

“Knowing Luke, he’d off himself before he’d let one of us get hurt,” Calum mutters. “But you really shouldn’t be asking questions like that. It’s not- it’s not a fun game to play Michael.” Luke nods, but he knows no one is paying attention. It’s not fun to imagine one his best friends shutting their eyes and never reopening them; it’s not fun to imagine two of them laying dead.

The room is quiet again. Michael’s keeps opening his mouth to say something and Luke feels sick again because now he knows, he knows what Michael is capable of spewing from his two pink lips, but nothing comes out except drunken murmurs, incoherent whispers, tired, intoxicated mumbles.

Luke wonders if this is what runs through Michael’s head when no one else is around; if he dreams about death and wonders what it’ll be like when his best friends’ lives inevitably end, if he shakes at the thought of their bodies decaying, if his spine tingles with the knowledge of his own mortality. Luke wonders if Michael knows that Luke would save him, he’d save all of them if he could but he can’t, and they’re all going to die separately and alone and that people will grieve but those people will die too and if the thought drains Michael to the point of numbness. He wonders if Michael stays up at night thinking of these things, if these inner demons dine on Michael’s consciousness until he’s emotionally crippled to the point where he has no other choice but to heal himself with liquor. Luke wonders if Michael thinks about death.

Luke doesn’t really want to think about these things anymore. The silence doesn’t give him much room to think about anything else.

“I was just curious,” Michael finally says . Lightning strikes and thunder rumbles again, but even with the noise, Luke is almost certain he hears Michael mutter “I hope you’d save me.”


End file.
